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debra-a-baughPoems
left alone with him, he undressed my mind; bathing me in sweet acronyms, traced upon curve in calligraphy while whispering in prose our dreams and... he'd dip his quill; inking upon my skin, noun's and verb's I'd absorb into my heart then... my poet, whispers again sweeping me off my feet in syllabic count; taking control of all my senses while... arching into masculinity his muse would run wild against femininities curvaceousness wet... lips began to taste his own poetic prowess upon the breadth of me and I'd simply smile into him knowing... his poetry is written solely for me and I'd glide tongue across his lips like ink against parchment
0
Feb 19, 2013
Feb 19, 2013 at 12:48 PM UTC
Sensually Speaking Poetry
left alone with him, he undressed my mind; bathing me in sweet acronyms, traced upon curve in calligraphy while whispering in prose our dreams and... he'd dip his quill; inking upon my skin, noun's and verb's I'd absorb into my heart then... my poet, whispers again sweeping me off my feet in syllabic count; taking control of all my senses while... arching into masculinity his muse would run wild against femininities curvaceousness wet... lips began to taste his own poetic prowess upon the breadth of me and I'd simply smile into him knowing... his poetry is written solely for me and I'd glide tongue across his lips like ink against parchment
Written by
debra-a-baugh
American
Feb 19, 2013
Feb 19, 2013 at 12:48 PM UTC
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